The Darkness Within
by gwillem
Summary: Upon receiving a cryptic message from Dudley, Harry must race against the clock to save his friends from assassination, and he's not even really sure why they're being targeted.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a new work I've been contemplating, and this is an 'experimental' chapter. Reviews will determine if I continue. **

**It will not be a typical "Happily Ever After", and will contain main character deaths.**

Dudley Dursley sat in the pub, drinking his allotted two pints of beer, the maximum his boxing coach allowed him. His body, once quite rotund had changed over the last four years, from that of a big, burly, though rotund youth to that of a young athlete in his prime. Wide shoulders now tapered down to a trim, muscular waist, and beneath his baggy shirt was the thickened abdominal muscles seen on highly trained boxers. Powerful bi and triceps gave him an even wider appearance, a fact he was now exploiting, flirting with the cute red-headed barmaid behind the counter. His two mates from the club had grabbed a corner table and were busily chatting up another two girls. He'd left them at the small table, and gone to get his second drink when the girl had caught his eye and saucily winked at him. Smiling inwardly, he'd taken a seat, and began his own mission of flirtatious introductions.

He was getting emboldened by the girl's behaviour, when his watch beeped, and he silently cursed, having lost track of the time. His training regime demanded five days a week in the gym, and as he was on a fast track for entrance into the semi-pro league couldn't take the chance of blowing a fight. He smiled, made a mumbled apology to the girl, and wandered over to collect his friends, when he head a name he hadn't heard spoken aloud for two years. "...Potter!" He almost stopped in his tracks before common sense kicked in, and stomach wrenching in sudden fear, continued past. He tapped his wrist, and with a circular motion said they should wrap up their conversations and head out. Outside at the car, he grabbed his friend's arm, whipping him around. "Ben!", he whispered, urgently. His mate turned, close cropped blond hair catching the streetlights glow.

"Wotcher, Duds?", he asked, surprise on his face.

"I need your help! We've gotta break curfew. It's important!"

At that Ben's eyes lightened. He'd always been the one to urge Dudley to screw the curfew, and for once thought he'd finally managed to convince him to give in.

Seeing his friends eyes light up, Dudley knew he'd gotten the wrong idea. "No, dammit! Not the girl! My cousin needs my,...our help!" Ian, at the other side of the car and waiting for it to be opened, popped his head up, curious.

"I thought you hated your cousin?", he asked, surprise on his face.

Dudley looked between the two, and sighed, as he was about to break a promise he'd made the last time he'd seen his cousin, Harry Potter.

"It's a long story, and I'll tell you later, but right now we've got to be very, very careful. There's a couple o' blokes in there planning somthin', and we've gotta figure out how to get at 'em. Problem is, they're a lot more dangerous than they look! Here's what I think we should do!" He waved them closer, and heads together, began to strategize.

At closing, the two non-descript men finished the last of their drinks, and tipped the waitress with the fake money they'd conjured. No one would be the wiser till morning, when they opened the till and found it containing pieces of blank paper. Muggles were such a useless lot, it's a wonder they managed to survive as a race, he thought, and separated from his compatriot. Turning, he raised the collar of his trenchcoat and proceeded to walk past the opening to an alley. A man staggered out then, seemingly drunk, bumping into him. "Hey!", he shouted, angry at being accosted by such filth.

"Whassup?", followed by a rather large belch, blowing the stench of freshly drank beer directly into his face. The younger man clung on him, trying to stay upright. With a startled oath, he attempted to dislodge his grip, only to find himself grabbed from behind so tightly he couldn't move. With a sneer, the suddenly sober youth stepped back. "Oh, Duds!, he called, snickering. His unseen captor seemed to have an unusually strong grip, and no matter how he struggled, he heard only a soft chuckle in response to his plight.

Unceremoniously, he was shoved towards the alley, where he saw a shadow detatch itself from the wall. A very, very large shadow. Sensing danger, his hand lept for his pocket before he heard a laugh. "Looking for his, gov?" Whirling, he saw Ian, the smaller of the trio twirling a small stick in his hand.

"Give that back you damned fool!", he snarled in rage, and made to step forward before a heavy weight on his shoulder stopped him. He turned his head cautiously to see one of the largest hand's he'd ever seen resting on his shoulder. A hand bearing what looked suspiciously like a...boxing championship ring? With an audible gulp, he turned at the urging of the hand and looked up, and up to see a rather evil smile.

"So gov. What can ya tell me 'bout 'arry Potter, eh?", before a fist the size of his head took him into darkness.

Crack! Crack! Crack! "Ow! Dammit! Stop hitting me!", he mumbled, his lips thickened with bruising. He could taste blood, and with his tongue discovered at least one missing tooth. Blearily, he struggled to open his eyes to find one nearly swollen shut. His head ached, and in trying to move his head only made him wince with pain. He hadn't hurt this much since he'd pile driven his broom in an ill-fated attempt at a Wronski Feint, playing quidditch at school.

As his eyes focused, he saw the same grinning smile he remembered, before being hit by what felt like a bludger to the face. "Allo!", came the cheery greeting. "Finally back with us?" Fury at being taken in so easily, he made to stand, and realized he was free. Struggling to gather his thoughts, his eyes tried to take in his captors and his place of imprisonment. Looking around he saw he was in some kind of gym, and belatedly realized he was looking at a poster on the wall of...no! His head whipped back to the smiling face, who was now outright laughing at him. "Surprise!", yelled Dudley, opening his arms, and twirling in a mad piriouette, befoe coming back to face him. A grandoise bow, and he saw he was standing on...oh shit, canvas. Panicked, he looked around and saw he was in the center of a boxing ring, with what appeared to be a rather prodigious boxing champion.

"Wha...What do you want?", he stammered, forcing his body to stand upright.

Dudley forwent all pretense at showmanship, and his smiling face turned into one of intense concentration that was very unsettling to his unwilling captive, judging by how the man suddenly took a step back. Pointing a large, blunt finger at him, he snarled. "You are going to tell me about Potter, and your plans, and I might just let you keep breathing!" Reaching into his back pocket he withdrew a pair of heavy, black leather gloves, drawing them on.

Realizing he was doomed if he didn't try something, the small wizard snarled in a combination of anger and humiliation, and cast a wandless bludgeoning hex at his captor. His eyes widened at the ease with which the huge man in front of him dodged the spell. Dudley smirked, and beckoned for him to try again, this time not dodging, letting the spell hit the dragon-hide leather gloves gifted him by Harry his previous birthday. Desperate now, knowing he didn't stand a chance at fighting with the monster in front of him, he smirked, and disapparated with a crack, before violently reappearing about two feet above the canvas floor, falling down face first on the ring. Groaning, he heard the chuckles of his three antagonists. "Guess those anti-apparition wards your cousin cast over the gym are still working, eh Duds?, called out Ben, from where he sat on one of the corner stools.

Dudley chuckled at the shocked look he was treated to, before striding over to the man, using his huge size to intimidate the smaller man, laying prone on the ring floor.

Sticking out a gloved hand, he introduced himself. "I'm sorry. We've not been 'properly' introduced. I'm Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter's very, very _violent_ cousin! Now, isn't there something you'd like to tell me, hmmm?"

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Two hundred kilometers north Ginny Weasley was cursing as she puttered around the house she shared with her husband, Harry Potter. Her back, feet, and lower legs were sore, thanks to a gift given her by Harry seven months ago, evidenced by her swollen belly. She loved the man to death, but at times like this when he was off on one of his international trips for the wizarding world, she wished he was here so she could hex his bollocks off! Groaning, she lowered herself to a chair, mumbling under her breath as she talked to herself. "Mum always said the first is the hardest, as it's the biggest changes for your body! Wish they'd taught this at Hogwarts! Course, if they did, there'd be no damned people left on this planet, now would there?" Harry, if he'd been present, would have laughed at how much she was now sounding like her own mother. She was brought out of her reverie by a tapping on the window. With a final curse she stood and went to let in the damned owl that was interrupting her morning cleaning.

An hour later, after trying to decipher the cramped and convoluted message from Harry's cousin, she put it down, an alarmed look on her face. "Hermione!", she whispered, alarmed. Ignoring the complaints from her pregnant body, she dashed to the kitchen floo, Whipping out her wand, "Incendio!", the flames leapt into being in the fireplace. Throwing a handful of floo powder into the flames, she waited, before stepping into the green blaze. "The Burrow!", she shouted disappearing in a flash.

Molly Weasley was surprised to see the kitchen flames change colour, but not as much as seeing her youngest tumble out of the fireplace with a frightened look on her face. "Mum! You've got to get a message to Hermione! She and Ron are in trouble!"

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Roughly two thousand kilometers away, Harry Potter was in a secret meeting with a delegation of Russian diplomats, attempting to standardize international education. It would allow witches and wizards to travel anywhere in the world for employment, rather than just being confined to select areas, usually in the country of their birth, where most were also trained. As the fifth shot of vodka went down, at least that's what he was telling himself through the beginning haze of alcohol induced happiness. He hadn't been pleased when being thrust into this assignment, when he'd rather be at home helping his pregnant, and sometimes cranky, wife. The Russians, however, on learning he and his wife were now expecting their first child, had decided to toast the happy couple, and begin a celebration that had brought a smile to his normally stern face. That'd been three days ago, and after recuperating the day before, everyone had decided to begin anew, this time with presents and gifts for the expecting parents.

It had taken four weeks of negotiating to finally be nearing the conclusion of their conferences, as each course had had to be broken down, translated, and compared using testing results from a selection of students. Now though, ensconsed in a lodge one hundred kilometers outside of Moscow, watching a blizzard rage outside the windows, he was happy that it would only be a matter of another week or so before he could head home. Laughing at a joke from the group gathered behind him, he turned, meeting Natasha Yanukovich's eyes, and shivered at the look she was giving him.

She was his liason with the Russian Ministry, and he'd been hard put to stay true to his marriage vows from the first day here. At nearly six feet tall, she was only two inches shorter than he was, but that's where the similarities ended. Silky blond hair, large hazel eyes, in a heart-shaped face with lips that just begged to be kissed. With an athletic build, she was also graced with womanly curves that had his body aching in ways he hadn't felt since his wedding night. She had also made no bones about how she felt regarding the hero of the British wizarding world, as her eyes had travelled up and down his lanky, yet muscular body, still hardened from his strenuous youth. It was when she'd taken him back to his hotel room, and while whispering something in his ear that still brought a blush to his face, she'd nibbled on his earlobe, sending shivers up and down his spine. He'd felt obliged to point out he was married, at which she'd only slightly backed off, satisfying herself with lingering touches and swaying hips that was slowly driving him crazy.

Ginny had been a wonderful girlfriend after school, and they had progressed quickly to the engagement and marriage. Her lovemaking, however, had left him a little frustrated. Molly had kept her children so cloistered and protected they had no experience with sexuality, and how natural it was to express it, especially with someone you loved. He'd resigned himself to letting her open up and learning with him as their marriage progressed, but had been disappointed at best, initially. After four weeks of teasing from Natasha though, he hoped her small, pregnant body would be up to the release of his pent-up sexual frustrations! If he didn't wrap these sessions up he'd end up embarassing himself by dry-humping his pillow one of these nights!

Schooling his features into his game-face, as Hermione coined it, he flashed the brilliant smile at her that had graced newspapers worldwide, after his defeat of Voldemort. "Grin, and bear it!", he chastised himself, all the while sweating inside as he felt the pressure of her gaze. He'd sworn that she could melt glaciers with the smouldering looks she shot him. As she was also highly skilled at Occlumency, as he'd found out to his dismay, he was seeing _exactly_ what she felt. He'd also noticed none of her other compatriots or co-workers received looks like she graced him with. With a final toast, he bid his hosts good night, only smiling gently at Natasha's raised eyebrow. Shaking his head gently, he laughed, ignoring her pout, making his way upstairs to his bedroom, glad to be out of her sight, though only till the morning.

After a hot shower, he fell into bed, exhausted and a little drunk at the alcohol he'd consumed. Dreams of Ginny on their wedding night morphed into a wild, sex-crazed fantasy featuring a tall, sultry blond.

Waking around three, he was disoriented for a moment, wondering what had woken him from such a pleasant dream. Wiping his hand across his face blearily, his head whipped around, belatedly realizing someone was knocking at his door. Grumbling, he climbed from bed, throwing on a thick robe to protect him from the chill of the night air. Whispering a charm, he realized there was only the familiar presence of Natasha outside his door.

Throwing the door open, he was about to lay into her that he wasn't succumbing to her wishes, dragging her to his bed, before he stopped, seeing alarm on her face. "What?", he demanded, suddenly worried at her expression.

"Harry! We've just received a message from someone named Hermione! She said to tell you it was a...a...Code Red Omega?" It was the only time since he'd met Natasha that he'd seen her confused, and despite his male brain recognizing how cute she looked, his heart nearly stopped. After the war, he and his friends had come up with a series of codes they would use to communicate among themselves. It made it easier, even if communication wasn't secure, and kept nosy busybodies from prying into their private lives. Unfortunately, the placement of the word "Red", meaning a Weasley, in front of the word 'Omega', meaning literally, the end, somebody had just died.


	2. Chapter 2

**For my new and existing readers, Changes and New Beginnings are still being continued, and will until concluded. Due to the holidays, my writing schedule has take a 'hit', and I apologize for the wait. Next chapter for NB should be out by Dec. 31/14.**

Throwing the door wide, Harry ushered Natasha inside his room, motioning for her to sit. He crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his, looking into her eyes. "Tell me exactly what was said", he urged, "and when you got the call!"

Natasha wasn't used to having someone meet her eyes so directly, as most people found her gaze a little too uncomfortable to bear. Yet Harry, his eyes nearly blazing with the urgency of his questions, stared directly into hers without hesistation or discomfort. She felt herself drawn into his gaze, and had to stop herself from involuntarily dropping her mental shields into place. In the weeks working with him she'd found him to be a very serious person, yet witty and dedicated to bettering the world for the up and coming generations of witches and wizards. It had been that which had drawn her to him, and she felt obliged in some way to let him see into her very soul.

As she steeled herself to recount the details, she realized the sensation of his hands holding hers were sending electrifying signals to her body, eliciting feelings even deeper than she'd originally thought for the enigmatic man before her. "The call came in roughly thirty minutes ago", she told him. "Relayed from the Russian Ministry. I'm not sure when they received it, but I'll guess not very long ago. It had been relayed from Britain, and contained only the message I told you. Harry?", her eyes searched his face, breaking the intimate connection, her hands shifting to grip his tightly. "What is going on?"

Harry sighed, standing and turning from her. Running his hands through his close cropped hair, she was surprised when it started to grow before her eyes. In moments, he turned and she saw his hair had lengthened all around, including lengthening in the front covering his tell-tale scar. She found the look suited him well, making him even more desirable, if that was possible. "The message was a code my friends and I cooked up, after the war. It means one of my friends, or their family, have just died." His head lifted, and his features shifted, hardening into a look that made something inside her tremor. Eyes that were normally a pleasant bottle green hardened, and she swore they almost gave off an etheral glow. Gone entirely were the softer features, the corners of his mouth downturned into a scowl, and she felt a tingle as he told her in a rough voice. "I'm going to shower, and then we have to make some calls. Chances are, I'll probably have to leave. Stay here!", he commanded.

Twenty minutes later they were both down in the office at the rear of the building. Harry was pacing like a caged animal, while Natasha spoke to her Ministry contacts in her native tongue. Hanging up, she met his eyes. "They're going to contact the Auror department in Britain first thing in the morning. Right now, there's nothing we can do but wait. With travel, it will still take two days to reach your home, Harry. When everyone wakes up, we'll let them know that our work here is complete. My co-workers can handle it from here. All that's left to do is the final comparisons with the seventh year transfiguration course. I suggest we just sign the papers now, and I'll accompany you back to Britain."

At this Harry's eyes lit up, before he smiled sadly shaking his head. "You have no idea what you're possibly getting yourself into, Natasha. Not to mention my wife's reaction at," he stopped, gesturing up and down at everything that was her. Involuntarily she blushed, flattered. It was the first time Harry had openly voiced anything that indicated he had found her attractive.

She steeled herself and stood, placing her hands on the desk between them. Meeting his eyes she told him bluntly. "Anything that threatens you, or your friends and family is bound to spread. I have not only authorization to accompany and help you, but orders from my Ministry to _help you at any cost_! You are not", she pointed a finger at him, "leaving me behind! Are we clear?"

Harry just stood, bemused. The last time he'd been told off like this was by Hermione, and the personality traits were so similar he found himself involuntarily smiling. Inside, though shaken, he was glad. Hermione and Ron now had a child of their own, and Ginny was pregnant. Neville was a fighter, but had responsibilities as a Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts. Almost all his old friends were far too busy, or had others to think of now. There was no way he could ask them to risk everything again, with what they now had to lose. Sighing, smile still on his lips, he met Natasha's eyes. "Ok. But please try and follow my lead? British society is a little more, ah, restrained, than here." She nodded in agreement. He'd told her once before she'd reminded him of an old friend of his, and from her own understanding of his past knew she was a very dominant person. British wizards were not used to women with determination and drive.

"Fine then! How about some coffe then?" Natasha quickly reverted to her normal self, and smiled seductively at Harry. With a beckoning finger, she led him to the kitchen where the house elves were already preparing breakfast. Wordlessly they sat and allowed themselves to be served. The tension of the moment receeded, as Harry now felt he at least had some direction to go, and now he knew he wouldn't have to tackle this challenge alone.

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Two and a half days later, nearing lunch time, Harry dropped Natasha off at a flat he owned in London, before apparating home to visit with Ginny. At his direction she had packed up and was now staying in her old room at the Burrow, for safety sake. They had little time together, which upset her, but he put his foot down, much to her and Molly's distress.

"Can't you just leave this to the Ministry dear?", Molly asked, perturbed. She was still very much an overbearing person, and Harry and Ginny had distanced themselves from her for a reason, choosing to live on their own in an unplottable location. After the war, with the attacks that had happened during Bill and Fleur's wedding, Harry and everyone spent a great deal of time, effort, and money essentially eradicating all traces of themselves, and making it nearly impossible to find them. Only certain people had access to each other's houses for security's sake, the Burrow being an area they'd selected as a neutral area. It had taken the place of the old Order's headquarters, but this time just for the select group of people who'd survived the war.

"They'll take too long Mrs. Weasley", Harry said. "Ron's just a missing person for now, and you know how the Ministry works, even though Arthur works there. They only have so many resources to commit, and each minute wasted lessens our chances." She was in tears when he finished, and allowed his mother-in-law to embrace him in a rib crushing hug. She and Arthur doted on their children, even though they were grown, and it had taken them a long time to come to terms with Fred's loss. Harry didn't know how she'd take to losing another one of her brood.

With a last kiss on Ginny's lips, and a brief warning for them to not travel anywhere without absolute need, he apparrated back to the flat. Natasha was standing near the window, looking out when he arrived, but turned at the sound of his apparition.

"Ok. Let's go see Hermione now. She said she'd meet us in Hogsmeade. We'll have to floo to the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts, because I don't want word to spread what we're up to. Once there, I'll put on my invisibility cloak, and Minerva will take you to meet her. It'll just look like three women out for tea." True to her word, Natasha offered no word of complaint, merely nodding at his direction. Ten minutes later Minerva and Natasha were on the way to Hogsmeade to meet Hermione, Harry trailing behind, unseen by everyone.

Slipping into a booth near the back, Harry almost let out a gasp of surprise at Hermione's appearance. She had always been pretty, but now there were dark circles around her eyes, and for anyone who knew her the fear in her face was evident. Minerva merely stayed for a few minutes, before making her leave. She still had papers to grade, and had agreed to help to direct Natash so Harry wouldn't be heard giving her directions.

Once she was gone, Natasha slid over a bit to allow Harry to sit, so they could converse quietly.

"How are you doing, Hermione?", Harry whispered, his words barely reaching the two women. In answer she held her hand out, and he could see the tremors. Natasha surprised them both, reaching out and gently taking her hand in hers.

"What happened?", she asked.

Hermione looked to where she guessed Harry was sitting, and he saw the question in her eyes. "She's okay Hermione. Not only is she a skilled Occlumens, but one hell of a witch as well, from what I've heard. She'd been sent here to help me, us."

The relief in Hermione's face was evident, and she began to talk. "Three days ago, Ron took Daniel to my parent's for them to babysit him while we went to work. He was supposed to apparate back home, and then head for work . I was already gone, since my hours at the Ministry are longer than his with George. When I got home," she stopped, and Harry could see the tears in her eyes. As carefully as he could and not be see, he reached out and touched her leg in reassurance. "When I got home, is when I saw the blood. No note, threat, nothing. His wand was still on the kitchen floor!" Silently, a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

"Ministry Wizards stopped by, but said they couldn't find a trace of any magic. They're stumped!" Harry could see the frustration. With their son, her hands were tied. She couldn't risk tearing off after whoever took Ron, and risk leaving their son a possible orphan. Harry however, had no such reservations. He also knew as formidable as Hermione was, she was a much more gentle person inside than he was. "Harry?", she asked, finding his hand on her leg. "Find them. Find Ron!", she begged.

He just squeezed her hand. "Give Natasha the address, and then go to your parent's place. It looks like whoever did this somehow traced you back home, and it's not safe there right now. Keep your cell on, and I'll call with updates." She nodded, dropped a small piece of paper in front of Natasha, and with one last squeeze of his hand slipped from the booth, disappearing out the door.

Natasha sat there quietly, waiting sipping her tea while Harry thought. Getting an idea, he said to his partner. "Finish up. I think I know what I have to do!"

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"I really don't like this place, Harry!", complained Natasha, looking around. He'd followed her back out the shop, still under his invisibility cloak, until they reached the edge of the village. At his direction she headed to the right away from the castle to the Forbidden Forest. As it was winter, the overcast sky gave the area a dreary look, and now under the canopy of the forest dark shadows gave hints of movement even though nothing was nearby. The erie silence of the woods ate away at their subconscious minds, bringing forth a sense of dread.

Unconsciously, reminescent of when he was at school, Harry took Natasha's hand, leading the way. He was so focused on his goal he missed the look of surprise, quickly changing to contentment at his unspoken support and caring. Deeper into the woods he went, guided by his memory, searching. Finally, seeing what he was looking for, he released her hand and stopped in front of a massive tree. He turned, and winked at her. "I hid something in this tree a few years ago, and I think it'll help us", he said.

Placing his hand on the trunk, he concentrated, and a small fissure on the surface widened, leaving an opening just big enough for his hand. Reaching in the hole he withdrew a small object, placing it reverently in a pouch he produced from his jacket pocket. Without saying a word the two left the forest, heading back to the castle.

Natasha's curiousity was piqued, but was a skilled enough witch to know when things were best left unasked. If the object Harry had retrieved was a magical item he chose not to keep in his house, or on his person at all times, and hidden in such a random way, it must be very powerful, or dangerous. She felt confident enough in their working relationship that if he wanted her to know, he'd tell her.

Back at the castle they wasted no time in chatting with Professor McGonagall, only long enough for her to give Harry a quick embrace, and a quiet word. With a whoosh of flames, they were back in the flat. Harry gestured to Natasha to seat herself, and went and ordered some pizza for supper.

Coming back into the living room, he was surprised to find the Russian woman had the television on, and was flipping through the channels searching for something she'd like. Seeing Harry, she lowered the volume, and motioned for him to sit on the sofa beside her. Harry sagged, suddenly tired. Rubbing his hand over his face, he endured Natasha's searching look. Reaching a decision, he turned to her and asked if she'd like something stronger to drink.

One raised eyebrow later, and he was up and brought back a bottle of brandy. "I think you're going to need this!", he said at her look. Waiting for her to drink, he started with a story that only he and two other people completely knew.

He started with the death of Albus Dumbledore, and his request of Harry to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes. At each revelation Natasha's face took on an even greater wondering expression. Piece by piece, the details were recounted with the final piece. "... and then we found out it wasn't just a children's story. The Deathly Hallows were real." Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew the stone. "This is one, and my invisibility cloak is another. The wand is in another spot where I've hidden it. We'll get it tomorrow and then head to Hermione's place. It's where I'll use the stone", he pointed at it, "to find out if my friend is dead."

While Harry had talked Natasha had studied Harry. She'd read the papers of what had happened, but to be told first hand of the events was shocking, and heartbreaking. So many people he'd known and loved were dead. Now, an unknown adversary had quite possibly killed one of his best friends, the husband of another of his best friends. She knew the chance he was taking telling her this, but also something he hadn't spoken aloud. Harry suspected his friend was dead, and had brought the Resurrection Stone to communicate with him and possibly find his killer or killers. Without thinking she reached out and grasped his hand. "I swear on my magic I will tell no one of this Harry. You have my word!", she stressed, meeting his eyes, seeing nothing but sadness and grief in them. Once their eyes met, a connection was made, a brief glow surrounding their hands as the vow was forged.

"Thank you, Natasha. Your word means a lot to me", Harry said softly, squeezing her hand gently.

The pizza had arrived, and eaten during his talk, but now Natasha sensed Harry needed more. At her urging Harry sat on the floor, allowing her to knead the stress from his shoulders with skilled hands. They both felt a connection between them, more than just lust, but both were adult enough to know it wouldn't do for them to cross that line. It was enough for them to be there for each other, offering comfort and support. Briefly, Natasha wondered what kind of a marriage Harry had that he hadn't even considered his own safety when rushing to the aid of his friend. Pushing her feelings aside, she contented herself with the feeling of the strong muscles beneath her hands, hidden by his shirt as she massaged him. If the time came, she would pursue that line of thought further, but not now.

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Less than an hour away by car, the Minister for Magic sat in his chair, scowling at the report in front of him. His own personal PR nightmare had begun three days ago, with word from his Law Enforcement agency that one of the Golden Trio was missing, possibly dead, and they didn't have a single clue to the perpetrator, or a reason why. He'd only taken over his position as Minister two years before, after Kingsley Shacklebolt had decided to head back to his old department and comfort zone; the Auror's. If he lost one or more of the young people who'd saved their world from enslavement and tyranny, he might as well put his wand under his own chin and practice the Unforgiveables on himself. It would spell his doom, politically, as well as throw their world into chaos again. Any person or persons who believed that they could take on the trio would send the message, "I don't care who you are. Look what I can do!"

Frustration and anger were evident on his face before he sat back, scowling at the man who sat across from him. The look would have bothered many others, but not this man. His name and position were unknown, and but for a small pin on his cloak, most would assume he was just another wizard in their magical world. Catching the lamplight, it glimmered. 'MMSS'. Other than the Unspeakables, who were essentially scientists researching dangerous and unpredicable magics, the people who worked for the Ministry of Magic Special Services were the only other's in the Ministry who had no names, and no titles known outside the department. You didn't apply to work for them. They sought you out.

"What are the chances this is a coincidence?", asked the Minister.

His 'guest' merely looked at him, causing the man to snort. "I thought not! There is no way one of them goes missing the minute Potter is two thousand kilometers away from home. Can you look into it?", he pleaded. He wasn't even really sure if he could order this man to do so. The language describing their department basically indicated that while they were a part of the government, they policed themselves, and weren't even really answerable to the Minister.

"I've already taken it upon myself to look into it. While we can't be seen to be directly involved, I'll make sure anything I find ends up directly in Potter's hands", he added, while looking at his hands. "You are aware he has a Russian witch helping him?" For the first time the man pinned the Minister with a very direct, cold stare.

Shivers ran down his spine at the look, and he nodded. "It was a diplomatic move only, I'm sure. As Mr. Potter's friends have all gone on with their lives, it's common knowledge that he would otherwise stand alone on this. It's just in his nature." He patted the other folder on his desk. One of several 'highly classified' folders, retrievable from their archives by only a few. Within the pages was a history of Harry's 'adventures'.

"We'll see", was the only response, and the man got up and ghosted out of the office. No sound came from his movements or footsteps. Once again the Minister shivered.

The MMSS had formed after the fall of Voldemort by a secret council of the Wizengamot. The cleansing of the corrupt and prejudiced members from the past had prompted several like minded individuals to begin the initial recruitment for the first members. As the purblood elitists and lazy or corrupt political members had tried to fight to maintain their power and positions with tooth and nail, the Wizengamot had used a political loophole to form the Service. That had been eight years ago, and their world was now better than it had been in a long, long time. Now, it seemed as if some demented fool was trying to send a message. They hadn't received it yet, but the Minister felt that it did not bode well for Harry Potter, or his friends.

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Ronald Weasley was in pain. He was sure his leg was broken, and the smell of burnt flesh assailed his nostrils, making him retch. On awakening two men had forced him to drink something, and fearing poisoning or some other vile concoction he'd fought. The result had been one of them shoving a red hot branding iron onto his thigh, forcing him to open his mouth in a scream. Pinching his nose, they poured the stuff down his throat, forcing him to swallow. It had turned out it was a painkiller for the broken limb, and he cursed them loudly.

"You could have just told me it was for my leg!", he'd screamed. Neither said anything, and silently left, leaving him in near darkness. As the painkiller began to work it's magic, he grew sleepy, and before long, dozed off.

Unseen by Ron, a closed circuit tv camera zoomed in, centering on his face as his head lolled to the side, snores coming from his mouth.

"How long till the leg becomes septic?", asked someone in a clinically detached voice.

"At best? Another day or two", answered a man in a white coat resembling a doctors. A hint of nervousness was in his voice.

The man who'd first spoken assurred him. "I know this is hard for you Doctor, but you do have to trust us. We have reliable information that this man is one of three people who we could use to get to whom we want. The other two are young mothers. It was the logical, and humane, choice."

The Doctor nodded, still sickened. Missions like this made him regret he'd ever sought clearance to work on government projects. The money was unquestionably good, but now they had him over a barrel, especially since those pictures had surfaced showing him with a younger woman on vacation, who was most definitely not his wife.

He knew the mission parameters. A strike team had waited for the target to appear, and struck, removing him as quickly as possible from the scene. The only downside was the target had somehow gleaned something was up and fought. He didn't know the details, but as he'd taken out two team members, one had delivered a blow to his lower leg, shattering it. Treatment wasn't an option, as he would have to be 'disposed' of. That was the main rule. No witnesses. Now they were just waiting.

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Harry and Natasha had retrieved the Elder wand, and now with all three Hallows in his possession they were making their way to Hermione and Ron's flat via the tube, dressed in muggle clothing. Much to Harry's amusement, Russian witches and wizards had long ago dropped the bizarre clothing favoured by their British counterparts, so it was easy for the two of them to slip into the subway, following the directions given them the day before. At ten Harry crossed the preliminary wards, and as he was the one who'd cast them, with Hermione's help, they were able to let themselves into the modest two bedroom unit.

Focused, Harry ignored the homely clutter and massive bookshelves that was the distinct combination of his two best friends home. Natasha took a seat, and waited for Harry to begin. He'd told her earlier that morning what to expect, and they both were prepared for the worst. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned the Stone over in his hands three times, and his jaw dropped in astonishment at who appeared.

**Addendum:**

**For anyone not understanding the Harry/Natasha 'relationship', please be patient, as events will be explained in following chapters. Natasha's presence is crucial, both for her skills, and building 'adult' friendships. I've actually built similar friendships in my own life, and am basing interpersonal character relationships on real-life happenings. (my own life, mind you)**


End file.
